


The dark side of the light

by Khalehla



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambition, Character Study, German National Team, International Break, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: Benedikt Höwedes didn't make it this far in his career by being just the purely good ray of sunshine that everyone thinks he is; there's another side of him that's been the driving force in his success, a side that only a select few can understand, let alone see.





	The dark side of the light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fearlesskiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearlesskiki/gifts).



It’s late by the time Benedikt said his goodnights and headed to his and Mats' room, satisfied with the amount of socialising and networking that he’d done in the past week.

It hadn’t been easy, not with St. Miro Klose the Perfect there mingling with the other players as though he were still a player and not a trainee with the coaching team. Benedikt hadn’t completely minded having Miro there - he, like with most of the players, could find nothing bad to say about their former striker, and Benedikt genuinely enjoyed Miro’s company when they were still playing together for the national team.

And there was the truth of it all. Benedikt considered Miro a true friend so long as he was a player. Miro as part of the management team, however, was one extra person that he needed to win on his side in order to maintain his status as preferred - well, behind Jérôme and Mats, anyway - centre back.

Benedikt was not blind or stupid. He had a very clear idea of how the national team selection worked, and at this point in time, the Bayern pairing was all but the default centre back duo. He wasn’t happy about this, but he was realistic, and had to learn to play the system to his advantage. He didn’t have anything against his rivals; he’d played with them since youth, won the U21s and World Cup with them, and considered them real friends. Jérôme was a quiet footballer despite his almost rough appearance, one of the true nice guys in the team, always so polite and friendly to everyone. And Mats - although occasionally cocky and sometimes self-centred - was genuinely sweet when you got to know him.

Benedikt loves Mats, of course he does. There’s no earthly way that Benedikt thinks that he could _not_ have fallen for the dark defender, but in his bones, Benedikt knows himself, knows the dark side that Mats would never think to look for: the side that could easily cut Mats’ flesh into ribbons and smash his heart into a million pieces if Benedikt thought there was a need to. He loves Mats, but he’s also only human; a human with ambitions and other wants, and what he wants is the thrill of winning. He loves Mats, but he's honest enough with himself to know that he would who would happily and guiltlessly take his lover’s place on the pitch if the opportunity presented itself to him, because to Benedikt, football was about winning, and he wouldn’t let sentiment get in the way, not even for Mats.

So he bide his time, was patiently reliable, and was rewarded with being first alternative choice and something of an advice-giver to the national team’s management when it came to team bonding and new player integration, regardless of who the captain was at the time. It’s an extra and somewhat burdensome unofficial responsibility, but one that Benedikt maintains for the simple fact that he knew that Jogi trusted him with the other players’ well-being more so than he did with Mats and Jérôme. This actually mattered in a team overflowing with talent like Germany, and Benedikt was going to ride this trust as his ticket to almost guaranteed international call-ups - which was the closest thing he had to regularly winning.

The biggest irony there was that it had been Miro - gentle, sweet, universally loved Miro - who had taught him that good guys didn’t always have to come last; good guys could fight for number one and _win_. Hadn’t Miro proven that? Miro was a formidable and intelligent striker, but the truth was Miro was more well-known forhis fairplay and for being likeable; his 16 world cup goals were really the only exceptional statistics that the media brought out when they praised his career. That hadn’t stopped him from becoming a legend though, because Miro was officially the poster boy for trophies and accolades outside of having played for a super club like Bayern or having ridiculous statistics _a la_ Messi.

And this was even more impressive when one considered the fact that Miro had aligned his entire career to take advantage of his so-called limitations without seeming unattractively over-ambitious. Miro had moved and stayed in clubs whenever it was most advantageous for him, boosting his “good guy” reputation wherever he went, doing always enough to maintain Jogi’s trust and still be called to the national team despite his so-called advanced age. Of course in Miro’s case, his age had worked in his favour in Brazil; Benedikt had witnessed first hand just how much respect the former striker had amongst the younger players especially, and how unwavering Jogi’s trust in him was.

And Benedikt had watched and learned and listened to Miro’s advice.

“Every player knows that we’ve only got a limited amount of time to make an impact,” Miro had said the night that they’d finally delivered the fourth star to Germany, “and we’ve got to make sure that in that time we don’t waste opportunities. At this stage in your career you should already know what type of path you’re willing to take to reach your goal. How is the footballing world going to remember you when you retire, Bene?”

The question had taken Benedikt by surprise. “Well, you know…”

“That’s not good enough,” Miro had cut him off. “You’re a product of the youth reforms that are going to almost guarantee that your country at least will always be favourites for a trophy; but it almost means that the position you play will always be four, five, even six players deep at any given time. Will you always be first choice? You can hope; but the real question is what are you going to do if you aren’t? Not everyone is Manu or Fips; not everyone is guaranteed in the starting line up. So what are you going to do about it?”

It had been a serious question that he wasn’t really prepared to answer while still being drunk from both the win and alcohol, but it had made him think really hard about it over the months afterwards. What did he really want to do? He was a World Champion now, he could move to one of the few bigger clubs if he wanted to - but then what? Would that affect his chances for trophies with both club and country at all? He probably wouldn’t be considered the same way people were talking about Manuel being one of the best keepers of all time, but that didn’t mean Benedikt wouldn’t try to attain his accolades another way. He knew that his leadership skills at least could get him the type of recognition that Miro’s fair play did; he just needed someone he could study and learn from. Benedikt didn’t even have to look far for inspiration, since inspiration came easily in the form of one Philipp Lahm.

They had called him the captain of the future. No longer was the big, brash, alpha male needed to lead a successful Mannschaft; instead they needed someone who was an authoritative figure who could lead by consensus but was firm when he needed to be. And that was Philipp Lahm up to his impressive eyebrows. Intelligent, versatile and close to consistently perfect when on the pitch, Philipp didn’t win the titles and honours that Messi or Ronaldo had, but if there was one thing that the tiny defender had, it was almost universal respect for his unquestionable skill and leadership abilities. After all, one couldn’t take on an exceptionally strong alpha-leader like Michael Ballack for the Germany captaincy _and win_ if one didn’t have the qualities and inner steel to succeed.

Benedikt had played with the tiny captain in a few games before Brazil, but it wasn’t until the months-long preparations and tournament that he had started to notice what it was that made Philipp such a commanding presence despite his height.

“Some relationships are worth fighting to keep, some you should keep - and that’s a good thing. We’ll never be able to do this on our own, that’s just the truth of it. But Bene.” Philipp had gone deadly serious when saying this. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you - don’t even dare _think_ \- that you can’t get everything you want. Those so-called dark feelings that we’re not supposed to have in the best interest of the team - they may be dark but they don’t have to be _bad_ . Learn to channel your strengths in the right way, and you’ll never have to second guess whether you’re being too ruthless. Do you think we go here by being _nice?_ No matter what the media try to portray of us, never believe more than half. Success isn’t dependent on what you’re willing to give - that only leads to burnout. Instead, think about what you’re willing to _take_. Once you know the difference, you’ll never have a loser’s mentality.”

That insight had changed Benedikt’s life, and it’s what fuelled him in all parts of his life, not just football. He loved football, and was intelligent and aware enough to learn early on that the saying “choose your battles” was a practical piece of advice and life motto if there was one.

He could claw his way up through the ranks until he made it to the biggest and best club as first choice defender, or he could define success in other ways than trophy counts. And he had made his choice. Be the best in top flight club that he could eventually be a legend in and earn his spot and success in the national team. All in all, it was a brilliant decision on his part. Was he not adored now - both by the fans of his club and the fans of his country? He’d never been booed or had placards made against him, and he was almost 100% sure he would never experience it and never wanted to; being best friends with someone who may yet go down as the best goalkeeper of the current era but who had still endured such hostility from the fans had been eye opening.

“You can play the tough guy and act like it doesn’t phase you that much, but the truth is, it hurts,” Manuel had confessed rather morbidly one night when he’d gone home for some work with his charity. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still trying to prove I’m not a traitor. I don’t know what else I can do to make them stop hating me.”

“I seriously doubt they hate you; in fact, I think everyone except the die-hard ultras love you. You’ve done everything to prove you’re the best and won everything already; they can’t ask for more from you.”

“I wish it was that easy,” Manuel sighed, staring morosely at his hands. “I sometimes wonder if I should have stayed a bit longer - tried to actually win something with Schalke before moving on.”

“That would have been an awful idea,” Benedikt said firmly. “As much as I hate to admit this, you had to move. If you didn’t go to Bayern, you wouldn’t have evolved; and without you, we wouldn’t have the World Cup and Bayern probably wouldn’t have won all those trophies either. We needed the best goalkeeper in the world to be the best team in the world, and you wouldn’t have become that if you’d stayed.” Benedikt gently turned Manuel’s chin so that they could look at each other. “I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend; I really believe it. Sometimes we have to know when to move on, Manu. You did the right thing.”

Manuel just smiled. “Why are you so good at giving pep talks?”

“One of the many things I had to learn when I became captain,” Benedikt shrugged, releasing his friend and leaning back so that they were both slouching against each other.

“Which you never wanted to be in the first place,” Manuel murmured. “I’m so sorry for dumping that on you, too.”

“Everything worked out in the end,” was the only response he could give.

Everything _had_ worked out in the end. Benedikt would have gladly given up the captaincy and all its responsibilities if he knew that there was someone better qualified than he, but the fact is, there just wasn’t. So he’d taken the captaincy and done his best, still hoping that his best was good enough. He also couldn't deny that being captain had elevated his status at Schalke - something that probably wouldn't have happened so quickly if Manuel had stayed. Benedikt's tendency to stay in the background meant that he would have been happy to be supporting act for the longest time, but Manuel leaving had shown Benedikt that he needed to step up to the forefront if he wanted to achieve all his goals. 

It seemed to be the right choice so far, because his standing in Schalke was cemented and his right to get called up to the national team was never questioned. Like Sami now and Bastian and Per before him, Benedikt was very much aware that although he wasn't always first choice, what he had to offer the national team was not limited to what he offered on the pitch. Which was something only a few of his teammates could boast. Like Mats.

Poor Mats, his beautiful, darling Mats, who despite his brilliance and talent, would always be judged on his bluntness and unfailing self-confidence and be found wanting. Unlike so many players whose arrogance didn’t quite live up to their talent, Mats was different, and Benedikt actually loved this about the other defender; it was this self-belief that actually attracted him to the dark defender in the first place. Unfortunately though, Mats still hadn’t learnt those painstaking lessons that now made him a contentious figure in football. Mats had thought that his talent alone could win him acclaim and acceptance, and that his natural charm would do the rest. He’d been wrong, so very, very wrong, ignoring the long memory that people had when it came to past transgressions - something the dark defender was still paying for even now.

“I don’t know what they want from me!” the tall defender ranted that night after making the mistake of reading reviews on his performance. “I scored a fucking goal and all they can talk about is me barely making it back to stop Griezmann - I mean, what the hell do they _want?_ I wasn’t the only defender on the pitch, for fuck’s sake!”

Benedikt had put his book down and said nothing, calmly letting Mats vent his frustrations. After a few more minutes of complaining about everything from the state of grass to the demanding media, Mats had finally run out of things to complain about and thrown himself on the bed to lie his head on Benedikt’s lap.

“You don’t agree with them, do you?” Mats had asked, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

“When are the media ever really generous unless they’re going overboard after a good game?” Benedikt asked running his fingers through Mats’ hair.

“They love you. No-one ever says anything bad about you.”

“That’s hardly true,” Benedikt disagreed mildly.

“They’re never vicious about your reviews,” Mats amended, “not the way they are with me.”

Benedikt just hummed. “One day they’ll finally accept just how talented you are and how much you give,” he’d said to soothe Mats’ feelings. “One day they’ll love you like I do.”

It had been left unspoken that that ‘one day’ might well be in the distant future when they’d all retired and whoever was doing the reviewing was looking back objectively with the benefit of hindsight. Benedikt didn’t need to point out that Mats may not actually see the day where he was (more or less) universally loved while he was playing - that would have been unnecessary cruelty. Benedikt had genuinely disliked seeing Mats so upset, but it also wasn’t his responsibility to constantly cajole his counterpart into behaving for the sake of earning points with the media. Mats was a grown man who should already know how the game was played both on and off the pitch; Benedikt’s only job was to be there as an emotional support for him when Mats needed him.

"Thank you for being here," Mats had said then. "Dealing with all this is so much easier when you're with me."

Benedikt's responded with another another hum and quick kiss to the forehead. "I understand you Mats, and they don't. It would be different if they saw you the way I did."

It was just a shame that Mats was unaware that they didn't understand or see Benedikt, either, for then they'd be truly surprised. But then again, not that many people could see the dark side of the light the way Benedikt could, and in the end, that was their loss.

**Author's Note:**

> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


End file.
